


Fire-Son

by Darcey_OBrien



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Deities, Childbirth, Gen, Phoenixes, Supernatural children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcey_OBrien/pseuds/Darcey_OBrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the verge of giving birth, Laura Collins welcomes the power of Ra.<br/>Originally published in 1981 in the print fanzine “The World of Dark Shadows” # 29</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire-Son

Soon.

Very soon now. 

The waiting would be over. 

She would be free of her burden. 

And she would touch the future - 

look tomorrow in the eye -

and know it was hers. 

Laura knew too that her baby would be a boy. Another son, strong. robust, bursting with life. 

How many of them had been boys? She frowned as she tried to count back through the centuries. 

It seemed most of them had been males.

But surely not all. SOME – of either sex – glittered as bright sparks of memory. 

The ones who had shone the fairest held the most promise. 

Tantinius, in ancient Greece, who had "experimented" with the powers of fire. Darius in Roman Palestine, who forged gleaming weapons from flame and bronze. There had been Sebastian, master swordmaker of King Arthur's age. Rogelio, the alchemist in the Middle Ages whose magical touch with the furnace had led to the secret of gold from stone – a secret that died with him. Catherine, the heretic consumed as a witch in the fifteenth century in England. David Radcliffe, of but 100 years before. Jamison and Nora. 

Others. More. Male. Female. 

And now…. 

Laura paused in the mental list, smiling to herself. Her palm idly stroked the firm bulge of her belly, which jolted a harsh, impatient kick against her open hand. She let her fingertips feather comforting heat through the taut skin, past strained muscles and the pulsing life of the placenta to the infant within. The warmth of her touch penetrated and soothed the restless one. 

She sighed, contented, her hand still absently rubbing. The home was quiet around her. No doubt Roger was again buried in his work at the cannery, as usual. Liz probably was mooning over the self-imposed prison that this house was to her. At this late hour, Carolyn would already be asleep. 

Prison. What Elizabeth Collins Stoddard missed! The entire world outside, a universe of life and noise and action and power. Of course, Laura realized her own view was unique, for she had seen the world running through countless centuries. So many years. It was no wonder she had to stop and think about how many children she had borne. 

But this one…. 

Both her hands rested on her abdomen now, silent, calmness seeping through to the child. She hoped she would have the time to stay and see him grow and flourish before she took him with her. Sometimes she had drawn her children to her when they still were in the flush of youth. Other times, she’d had the years to watch them mature into adults before they welcomed her back and stepped into the fire to join her. And occasionally, a mortal had managed to interfere and snatch her offspring from its blazing destiny. 

But – if Ra was kind, if Ra was generous, if Ra gave her the instants of eternity she wanted – she would watch this one age, then see a grown young man come to her side in the glory of the flame. 

A boy.

She did not care what it was, only that it – he or she – carried the power of Ra within. Only then would her Master be pleased and smile down on her, a smile that would radiate into an incandescent, beaming, brilliant explosion of love and power when this son rose with her to His side. Then she would have served her purpose in this existence and she would patiently wait for the flash of Forever that meant another hundred years had passed and she had to go on. 

Wait. 

She sensed through her fingertips that it would be over very soon now.

She pushed aside the voluminous cloth of the maternity blouse and considered the smooth white stomach shining there. As she watched, it thrust abruptly on the upper right side, a tiny fist or foot pummeling in its womb-bed slumber. 

I will make him ready. I will prepare him. He will not be afraid. He will know what I am, not from open, brazen words, but in story and legend and touch. My eternal heat will reach into his heart, telling him that the tale of the Phoenix is truth. That I am, and he is. He will know. And if I have to leave to let him grow and prepare himself alone for the Final Time, he will remember me and not be frightened. 

She smiled to herself once more, enjoying the secret. Mortals could never know it, could never understand or accept it... the shrieking power of the flame as it consumed, sucking away the mere shell of flesh, crumbling it into flakes of ash and pricks of spark that sailed on the endless winds. The spiraling skyward on a column of scented cushioning smoke, up and up, to the glory…. 

What they all missed. 

A sharp jolt twitched within, jarring her out of the pleasant, soothing half-sleep. She frowned, getting her bearings, reliving what had disturbed her. 

Yes. 

It was time. 

She did not panic or dread, did not find her mind lunging frantically ahead to who could help, what would happen. All these eons had taught her.

She knew she could birth herself if need be, knew there was nothing to worry about. This strong son of Ra would arrive safely. She would not lose him in the mere act of birth. 

She thoughtfully examined the bedroom around her. She had been settled in the fat stuffed chair near the familiar comfort of the fireplace. The room had a burnished glow to it from the flames in the grate. Everything else was dark outside the line of that glow. Beyond the house, the October night was overcast and heavy, a coagulating mass pressing close against the grayed windows 

Laura knew she could move to the bed and the telephone there. Call Roger and bid him come take her to the hospital like any normal expectant father was meant to do. Perhaps the momentous occasion of this boy's birth would rouse Liz out of the house for the first time in almost ten years. Or she could just lay down on the bed and wait out the pain, alone. 

She sensed Roger's pending arrival. She could almost see him shoving open the door downstairs and going directly to the brandy decanter. A few leisurely swallows to relax him, and then perhaps he would meander in search of her. 

Ah, but this night would be different. For tonight he would not gain a son.

He would lose a wife, a child, and a future. 

She considered again as another tight twist contorted her insides. Be patient, my little Fire-Son, she thought. Your time is near now. 

She knew Roger would reach her before the final contractions of labor were upon her. As if this boy knew. He would come too quickly for anyone to get her to the hospital. Yes, my One, you must be born at home, near the fire that welcomes you. No sterile, cold, dead-white operating room will be your first sight. Your eyes will open to the beckoning flickers of Ra Himself. 

That decided her. With awkward effort, she struggled out of the padded chair and shambled over to the fireplace. With difficulty, she teetered and balanced her way down to the hearth. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she plumped down on the hard stone fronting. She had a lot of weight to carry. 

The fire surged before her as if in joyful celebration. She again pushed aside her blouse, and turned her bulging belly to the flames. The burning warmth beat on her skin in excitement. 

Yes. 

Ra was pleased. 

As if encouraged by the blaze, the infant wrenched once more, a long, lingering clenching that made her gasp. Already this one was eager, pounding and battering against the confines of her womb, hungry to touch that fire-warmth for himself. 

She sat on the hearth for an eternity, lost in thought, lost in promise. 

The heat singed her skin and drove the infant into a frenzy of effort. Soon her abdomen seemed to ripple and thrust almost constantly, as the boy increasingly sought a way out of his floating prison. 

Lost in the spinning sweat of labor, Laura absently wondered if she could step into that blaze and offer her child up as he emerged. Would Ra want a newborn whose very first breath was full of all the hot tongues of His fiery soul? Would Ra bring them both home at that very instant? 

She did not even feel herself ease down on the carpet before the fireplace, the protruding belly swelling up like some gleaming bloated balloon. The heat continued to hammer against her, slamming through her to propel the infant on. She moaned – pain, ecstasy, power..... 

 

She was vaguely aware of sounds behind her, of concern in the air, of hands drawing her up to carry her bulging bulk away from the welcoming fire and to the flat bed. The sheets felt cool and crisp against her spine, but heat still radiated from her belly, stretching back and forth across the room between the bed and the fireplace. 

She gasped again as the searing pain ripped through her. Her eyes fluttered open briefly: Distorted, sweat-blurred image of faces. A blanket was being tugged over her. The heat scorched through. 

She closed her eyes, accepting and fighting the agony within. All she could see in her mind were leaping, twirling dancers of flame, little lashes of fire, thrashing gouts of smoke. It was as if she was in the fire itself and it was pulling in on her, gathering itself for the final consumption – 

Had she indeed stepped over the hearth to sacrifice her newborn and herself? 

No. 

Not yet. 

The wild contortions of fire that filled her vision faded; she could not tell if her eyes were open or not. Yet she was somehow gazing up, high and free, up through red-hot sweat. Above her in the crimson-laced darkness winked a spark of hellfire, a flick of Ra's strength, a wisp of the Sun. As she watched, it bloomed forth, bursting outward in a sweeping eruption, a glowing, supernatural nova that instantly choked off the blackness and left behind a pulsing, all-encompassing orb of blinding white light. 

The Eye of Ra Himself. 

She did not feel the last tortuous contortions of her womb, the muscles driving forth the head - shoulders – torso – legs. It could just as easily have been happening to any other woman, next door or on the next planet, so lost was she in Ra's power. 

For Laura Collins saw herself drifting in that dazzling fire-glory – rising ever-upward – the infant in her arms – smiling – the child squirming in ecstasy – up and up and up—

Engulfed in Him – accepted – welcomed – taken completely and solely and eternally by Him ... 

And so David Collins was born.


End file.
